Blood of Mindelan
by Mistress Scarlett
Summary: "Kel's green-brown eyes stared glassily at the forest canopy above, her chest no longer moving, her face a ghastly bluish-white"... On a perfect summer's morning, Squire Tobe must face his deepest fear. *Rated for medium-level violence*


PROLOGUE: This story is set ten years after the events of 'Lady Knight'. Following the conclusion of the Scanran War, King Jonathon offered to grant Lady Knight Keladry of Mindelan any request as her choice of reward for saving Prince Roald from one of King Maggur's assassins. Characteristically, Kel's choice was an unusual one - she asked for her eleven-year-old assistant and legally adopted son, Tobeis Boon (now officially Tobeis of Mindelan), to be allowed to train for knighthood, hoping this would help to combat the oppression of commoners in Tortall. The King reluctantly agreed. As the first common-born boy ever to try for his shield, Tobe had a hard time from some quarters during his page training, but eventually made friends and won the respect of all but the most conservative of Tortallans. Now Squire Tobe must face his worst fear...  
  
Blood of Mindelan  
  
The harsh light was filtered green and gold by the forest canopy, warming the spicy-scented midsummer morning and speckling the two horses and riders that moved quietly through the trees. The golden-haired young man riding in the rear struggled to keep awake, focussing and re-focussing his eyes on the reddish-brown hindquarters of the big roan gelding ridden by the tall woman in front of him. His own mount, Rilke, flicked her black tail painfully against the exposed skin between the hem of his breeches and the top of his boot, snapping 'Wake up!' as clearly as if she had spoken aloud. Squire Tobeis of Mindelan murmured an apology to the mare inside his head, and settled himself straight in the saddle again. Although nearly nineteen years old, he was still short, around five feet six inches tall, and on the skinny side for a fourth-year squire. However, over the years those who would have mocked Squire Tobe for his small size and common birth had learned to think better of it. In addition to his skills with lance, glaive and sword, Tobe mystified and discomforted many with his strange ability to understand and 'speak' to horses of all kinds. 'Wild magic', was what Daine, the animal-mage in Corus called it, but Tobe just thought of it as knowing how to talk and listen to people with four legs as well as two. Half-stupid with the warm summer's heat and lack of sleep, he wondered how much longer he and his knight-mistress and their horses, Rilke and Peachblossom, would have to remain on 'overnight' guard duty. As he opened his mouth to ask, a sudden rustle in the undergrowth caused both horses and riders to jump and swing their heads around.  
  
"Tobe, did you hear - " Lady Kel began to ask, then disappeared backwards over the gelding's withers, her voice abruptly choked off. On the other side of the clearing, branches scuffled and footsteps raced off into the distance. Swinging out of the saddle, Tobe raced around Peachblossom's hindquarters and froze. His knight-mistress was lying speadeagled, her throat pierced and torn open by a vicious-looking barbed arrow. Bright blood pulsed down her tunic and onto the forest floor, also running from the corner of her mouth and her long, delicate nose. So much blood.  
  
Tobe felt as if he took forever just to fall to his knees, trying to speak her name and coming up with only a wordless croak. He scooped up her head and cradled it in his arms, trying to stop the bleeding and succeeding only in coating the front of his dusty blue tunic with blood. More of it ran across his breeches, horribly sticky and warmer than the day, the lady knight's life gushing out with every beat of her heart into the dirt and leaves he knelt upon. Fumbling, horribly slow and clumsy, Tobe tore at the hem of his shirt, trying to wrap it around the arrow wound. But with every slackening pump, the bleeding was slowing by itself. Finally it stopped. Kel's green-brown eyes stared blind and glassy at the forest canopy above, refusing to meet his own, her chest no longer moving, her face a ghastly bluish-white. The whole process could not have lasted more than a few minutes. It felt like a dream. This wasn't supposed to happen, a part of Tobe silently screamed, not like this, this woman who had fought Immortals and killing devices at his side was not meant to die with an arrow in her throat on simple guard duty....  
  
Feeling dizzy and sick, Tobe looked up to see Rilke's gentle horsey face peering down, futilely nuzzling at the Lady Knight's feet. Her ears flicked back and forth in puzzlement. 'It's no good, Rilk' he sent, his thought- tone flat and numb. 'I need you to go now. Find Merric, bring him back with men and more horses'. The black mare jerked her head once in reply and wheeled, trotting silently out of the clearing. Standing up, Tobe took rope from Peachblossom's saddlebags and lashed Kel's body firmly to the gelding's back, knowing the wily old horse would never allow himself to be captured. Finally she was tied securely across the saddle, her lifeless eyes still staring straight up at the blazing sun. He kissed her just once, softly on the still-warm cheek, spreading more blood over his face, and slapped Peachblossom on the rump, silently instructing him to hurry away. 'Take her back to camp! Take care!' he sent forlornly as the horse disappeared into the undergrowth, quiet hoofbeats growing fainter in the distance. Tobe's eyes blurred and ran as he stuffed his fist in his mouth, determined not to make any sound that would give his position away. He would make them pay.  
  
As he ran in the direction the assassin had disappeared, silently gasping for breath, the dizziness overcame him once more. Stopping to be sick in a stand of blackberry bushes, Tobe blinked and shuddered, memories suddenly washing over him like meltwater in the sticky blood-smelling heat.  
  
* * *  
  
He was a baby, and she had gone, the mother, the life-giver, abandoned him to this stranger. He lay in his crib, silent, having cried himself into a state of miserable, dehydrated shock. Auld Eulama, the midwife, picked him up and held a bottle of sugar-water to his mouth, but the baby Tobe screwed up his face and refused to feed.  
  
* * *  
  
Wiping his mouth with a clump of oak leaves, Squire Tobe hurried on, a narrow streak of determined fury prowling through the forest. Broken leaves and branches showed the way the archer had gone, and Tobe ran on in pursuit through the rich heavy sunlight with no thought as to where he was going, or whether there might be other Scanrans. On towards vengeance, with the blood of the Lady Knight drying on his face and the memories assaulting him thicker and faster with each step.  
  
* * *  
  
He was three years old, and try as he would, he could not make Eulama wake up. Little Tobe tugged and tugged at her sleeve, whimpering softly with hunger and fear, but she wouldn't move or wake. Her breath smelled funny, and the wine-glass stood, the last of many, half-empty beside her hand as she snored on into the afternoon. In the corner, a blond-haired toddler sniffled and licked salty tears from the backs of his own hands. Why won't she wake and give him midmeal? Doesn't she care that he's hungry and alone?  
  
* * *  
  
Tobe ducked and silently swore as another of the ugly barbed arrows whizzed over his head from deep in the undergrowth. If he'd been as tall, say, as the Lady, that one would have gotten him for sure. Why don't you come out and fight?, he thought silently, but instead of speaking he ducked sideways behind a tree-trunk, listening for any small sound that might give his attacker away.  
  
* * *  
  
He was a little boy now, skinny-legged and runny-nosed, still crying on and off from the shock of what had happened. Auld Eulama was gone, died in the night and found stiff and cold by her young charge in the morning. "What am I bid, who will take on this urchin?" cried the village elder, and Tobe bit and struggled in Alvik the Innkeeper's none-too-gentle arms, the man's hand clamped firmly against his mouth. "You'll earn your keep now, worthless boy, there's enough to do at an inn to keep even a feckless bastard like you out of trouble". For one copper noble, he was as good as Alvik's possession for as far ahead as a six-year-old can imagine. As the furious tears ran down his face, he was unable to utter a sound.  
  
* * *  
  
More arrows zipped overhead from the trees on either side as Tobe plunged down the sloping forest floor, but by good luck or good management he outmanoeuvred them all. Ahead, he could hear the pounding of large heavy feet slowing down as his quarry lost its wind. The fellow had thought to lead him into a trap, but as he burst through a particularly thick stand of trees, Tobe realised that he had outrun the last of the Scanran archers. Up ahead, he saw a large, square figure charging through the brush no more than ten or fifteen feet in front of him. Tobe snarled and redoubled his speed, glad to have an excuse for his breath to come in sobs.  
  
* * *  
  
And now he was nine, and Haven, the fort he'd learned to call home after the Lady Knight rescued him, had been attacked. The one place he'd known peace was suddenly turned into every hell conceivable by Scanran raiders. As he ran past the bodies of dead and dying animals, the cries of his friends Gydo and Loesia rang in his ears as the Scanrans dragged them away. He longed to run after them, to thrust the cut-down spear he carried into just one Scanran heart. But he knew he could not, that he must listen to Master Zamiel who had sacrificed his life to distract the Scanrans so that Tobe could sneak through the compound and into the shadows of the main circling wall. "To Fort Mastiff, Tobeis. Find the Lady Knight. They must not catch you, do you understand? You must not make a sound". She should never have left them here. She should never have left him alone.  
  
* * *  
  
Squire Tobe bore down on the fleeing Scanran like a wild man, hair and clothing stiff with blood, dirt and vomit, blue eyes mad with rage and despair. The enemy turned, drawing a big blunt sword and slashing at Tobe, who retaliated with silent menace. He brought his own sword down, but it struck a glancing blow off the Scanran's helmet. Tobe was forced to the ground, but rolled and sprang upwards like a human catapault, forcing himself headfirst into the Scanran, who, tired from his run and lacking Tobe's force of manic fury, tumbled to earth in his turn. Tobeis of Mindelan stood over him, blazing hatred from every corner of his thin, fierce face.  
  
* * *  
  
He was eleven years old, and he couldn't for the life of him understand why the Lady Knight had brought him to this terrible place. What was so great about being a page that it could be worth being separated from the only friends he'd known, and the woman who'd been both mother and sister to him this past two years? "Now, don't be silly, Tobe" she admonished him at the palace gates, "You know you'll see Neal all the time, he's going to be teaching the pages and squires basic healing, and Daine and Numair you're friends with already. You're going to learn so much. And this is for the best, Tobe, for you and lots of other people too. I'm counting on you to show those nobles what a commoner can do". But he didn't understand or care about her grand plans for the realm's first common-born knight, he knew only that one more person he'd loved was abandoning him. You're leaving me, he wanted to say, like Mother and Auld Eulama did. Don't leave me, Lady Knight, please don't leave me here all alone.... "Come on, Tobe. Just come and say goodbye to Peachblossom and Hoshi nicely, at least?". But glaring stony-faced into her warm hazel eyes, he didn't speak a word in reply.  
  
* * *  
  
Just as Tobe brought his sword smashing down on the Scanran's neck, just as the battle-cry of "Mithros and Mindelan!" formed on his lips in a great howling wail of loss and rage, the soldier abruptly vanished. Whirling, dizzy with incomprehension, Tobe found himself suddenly unarmed. The smell of sweat and vomit had vanished. He was standing barefoot on a cold stone floor and shivering in a clean white tunic that bore not the faintest spatter of blood. He looked around the small stone room in utter bewilderment.  
  
"I... what did... Lady Kel... what happened...?"  
  
That was when he noticed the ancient stone face imbedded on top of the doorway. That was when memory came flooding back. Of course, his Ordeal... The Chamber, the Chapel, being instructed in the Code of Chivalry by Sir Neal and Sir Owen... It was Midwinter's Eve, not summer at all. He was in Corus, not the northern mountains. There was no guard duty, no barbed arrows, and the Scanrans had been gone from Tortall these eight years. Tobe almost laughed aloud as he blinked, rubbed his eyes and stood upright, the thin silver circlet traditionally worn during the Ordeal of Knighthood clattering from his head to the floor. "You fear to lose those you love" said the voice of the Chamber of the Ordeal. "But so do all who live, and you have shown that you will not let this fear destroy you. Common blood is stronger than many have thought, it seems. You will do, Sir Tobeis of Mindelan."  
  
The door swung slowly open, pouring warm golden light into the Chamber, banishing its nightmares forever. Tobe could just make out the face of Lady Kel, pale and sleep-deprived but very much alive and peering anxiously from the front row of the cheering crowd of onlookers outside. He squared his shoulders and walked proudly out of the Chamber.  
  
T H E E N D . 


End file.
